Call Me Black Queen

By Prudence N. Konlani

Where I came from, a good woman is measured by her ability to endure pain, abuse, and violence. The more pain you bear, the better you are.

What if love doesn't have to be that hard?

What if you can still be a good person and a good wife but say no to any form of abuse and violence?

What if strong doesn't necessarily mean carry it all alone but instead ask for help when needed or to let go sometimes?

What if?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781636924472

Book preview

Acknowledgments

To my girls Faith and Blessing, may you find hope in this book and learn the real value of true love.

To my son Elijah, I really hope that by the time you read this book, I’ll be able to make a man out of you, a real man—a man with love and compassion, who has a fear of God, knows how to treat all mankind, especially women, and who treasure the real value of family.

To my lovely dad, may your soul rest in peace. Thanks for the sacrifice. You loved her but chose to stay with our mom to see us grow. It must have been difficult for you, but no one could really understand your choice of life. At the end of the day, who are we to judge you?

To my mom, Black queen, and African queen, thank you for your unconditional love, your courage, and your faith. He did not treat you right, but you stayed till the end. Thank you for this sacrifice of love. I wish I was as strong as you are, but unfortunately, I am not. And to be honest, I don’t want to be that kind of strong.

To Sylvia Djene—my sister from another mother, my friend, and my helper—thank you for taking us to your place. If wasn’t for you, my kids and I may have been not only homeless but also have no transportation… Thank you

To my brothers, thanks for the support. You’ve been there all the way. Even though you’ve been a little tough on me, I think it was for the good. I’ve learned the lesson.

To you, my special person—the one in my life, my rock number 2, my best friend—all the pages of this book will not be enough to show my love and gratitude toward you, so all I can say is thank you.

To Mark Mavis, my landlord, you might not know it, but you’re one of the angels God placed on my way to help me and the kids. May the blessings of the Lord always shower you. For when we were in need, we found favor in your eyes. Thank you.

To Darren Wercinski—one of my destiny helpers—thank you for giving me a chance to do something and be somebody. Thank you for believing in me without even knowing me. Your humility and kindness are astonishing. You are an amazing person. May the Lord continue to bless you and your family. Thank you.

Last but not the least, to Katy Anderson, Faith’s fifth-grade teacher, thank you for being such a great person and an amazing teacher. Thank you for treating and taking care of my daughter as your own. The year 2020 has been very, very challenging for me, and to be honest, I don’t know how she would have passed that class if you haven’t been there at every step to support me with her education. May the Lord bless you.

The divorce rate seems to have reached its peak all over the world, especially among young couples.

Even in Africa, where divorce is still an abomination in certain cultures, the virus seems to have spread there too.

From our ancestors to our moms, they lived it all; they supported it and overcame it. I tasted it. It’s bitter, acidic, and murderous. I tried to bear it with difficulty. Will I ever be able to overcome it like my mom?

Call me Black queen not because I’m from a royal family nor because I’m married to a king but because I am a queen even if he doesn’t see it. Call me Black queen because I am Black and proud. They thought they were breaking me. Instead, they were making a queen out of me.

I was young and naive when I met the cute guy who later became my husband. No one ever taught me how to be a good wife or a good mom. We were born and raised with the mindset that the man was the head of the family and a woman should submit to her husband. But what does this really mean? No one ever explained it to us nor taught us.

The only example we had was our parents, who were in a relationship where your dad can verbally, emotionally, and sometimes physically abuse your mom without anyone saying a word. In Africa, we don’t know what the word abuse is. Abuse is our normal. This was our daily life. On the other side, TV shows taught us a new view of relationships where the man talks and treats his wife with care, love, and respect. Usually, in those shows, when one of those values was not respected, the divorce was inevitable. So for me, as I was growing up, it was very clear. Between a relationship where I would be abused and mistreated and a relationship where love, respect, and care were the base, the choice was clear. I was never going to let a man treat me as less than a person. In my marriage, it must be care, love, and respect; otherwise, the divorce will be inevitable. But was it the right choice to make?

Now that I am almost divorced and have three kids, if I had the chance, I would have done things differently and made different choices. I wish someone would have taught me the real reason for marriage. I got married because I fell in love with my husband. At that time, we did not have the same vision. We were arguing all the time. There was no respect, but we were in love. And that was all that mattered to us. We thought our love would overcome any obstacle we’d go through in life. Don’t we usually say the power of love? We believed in ours. We thought we could move mountains and make miracles. If only I knew! Instead of getting married because I was in love with someone, I should have chosen to stay with someone who has the fear of God and who can respect me, lift me up, encourage me, and support my choices even though he does not necessarily agree with me. I should have chosen someone who has the same vision or at least was ready to compromise so that we could fulfill our wildest dreams together.

I met my husband when I was twenty-three years old. He was living in Minnesota while I was living in Dakar Senegal. What was at first a simple friendship quickly turned into a love romance. We were on the phone all the time. We couldn’t spend a day without talking to each other, and we wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see each other on Skype. We would spend all night talking on Skype. I could feel in my heart that he was the one. I just met him, but it felt like I always knew him. I felt comfortable with him. He knew the right words when I needed them. I felt I was in love with him, and he loved me back. But we both knew something was wrong and ignored it: he was fire, and I was water; he was hot, and I was cold; and he had anger issues and was very jealous as well. For me, at that time, jealousy was proof of love. He would get mad at everything, big or small. We would argue for hours, and he would be very disrespectful and verbally abusive toward me. It was okay, and I even thought it was kind of cute that he was jealous. Even though deep inside, I didn’t like the situation, I was trying to convince myself that things would get better and would be different once we were living together. But that was a mistake.

Beside his anger and jealousy issues, he was a great guy. At least he was acting like one. He was the kind of guy who would be the first to call you in the morning just to wish you a good day or just to hear your voice. Sometimes I remember him talking to me on the phone until I fell asleep before he would hang up. He seemed like he was that sweet guy.

Before we knew it, we were engaged, and he started my paperwork to join him in the US. Eight months later, my papers were approved. My dad was not in agreement with me going to the US without getting my juris doctorate. I was dead in love and did not listen to him. Even though my dad was seriously ill and dying from liver cancer, I got a visa and flew to the US without telling anyone. Three weeks after my arrival to the US, my dad passed away. I couldn’t go to his funeral. No one was happy with my move. My uncles and brothers were calling all the time, asking me to at least come back and finish my juris doctorate, but I still didn’t listen.

A couple of weeks after my dad’s burial, I started to have hormone issues. My husband looked at me and asked me if I was pregnant.

Why are you asking me that question? I asked.

Because your mood has been changing a lot lately. You seem very happy, then the next minute, you’re mad, then you’re sad, then you’re crying.

Whatever! I am not pregnant.

Are you sure? he asked.

Sure.

Have you had your menstruation lately?

No, but it’s normal to me! It always comes late. Sometimes it doesn’t even come. But nothing to worry about.

Still, let’s go get a pregnancy test.

You’re just going to waste your money for nothing.

It’s all right. I want to know.

We grabbed our jackets and went to buy pregnancy tests. Once we arrived back home, I went in the toilet and took a test. It was positive! One line was very defined while the other line was not so much. I was sure it was a mistake, but I still went ahead and showed it to my husband. I knew he would be mad, so I tried to convince him that it was a mistake and that we should get another pregnancy test in another store just to be sure. We did the very next day. It was once again positive! My husband was not happy at all. He began blaming me for trying to mess up his life. He did not want to get pregnant at the time. We should have waited for him to graduate from school and find a professional job first. That same day, we went to Sam’s club. He was already arguing with me for getting pregnant, but at one point, he turned to me and asked, How can you be pregnant? Why didn’t you protect yourself? How are we going to survive? What am I going to do? What about my school? You really want to ruin my life, right? You came here to mess up my life, right? We’re not ready to have a baby yet, so when the baby is born, we will send them to my mm.

I replied, Never.

How come never? I said the baby is going to my mom. That’s all.

I asked with a smile, Why your mom?

I don’t care. If you want, the baby can go to your mom, but all I know is the baby must go and stay in Africa for a while. People do that all the time.

The only thing I know and that I’m sure of is that my baby is not going anywhere. No one is going to raise my kid for me, not my mom nor yours. And rest assured that the baby is not going anywhere unless I go with them.

You see [now he was very angry and was verbally abusive again], you were sent to ruin my life and stop me from finishing school.

At this point, I wanted to cry, but I held it in. When he went to pay for the groceries, I sat down, called my friend Vicky, and broke down in tears, telling her, Vicky, I’m pregnant.

What?

Yes, I am.

Does your husband know?

Yes, I told him, but he is not happy about it. He said he is not ready to be a dad yet and that I wanted to ruin his life.

I’m sorry, girl. You need to be strong, and don’t take it personally. Most men panic when they hear that kind of news. Don’t worry, you guys will be okay.

But was it necessary for him to be that mean to me? He really hurt my feelings.

I know, but be strong, girl. You will be okay, and I’m here if needed.

Thank you.

Best Friend

From that day, we became a little bit anxious and stressed out. Every little thing became a reason to argue, and our arguments would last for hours. We would argue for a simple yes or no. Every time my husband would get mad, he would abuse me verbally, emotionally, and sometimes physically. I remember one day, a friend of mine gave birth to her son. On our way to visit her at the hospital, we started arguing. I don’t exactly remember the reason why, but I remember him telling me that I was not submissive, that I was too much, and that he could no longer support me. He said he was going to send me back to Africa or to my brothers in California. For me, it was just one of the normal disputes that we always had. But once we got home, he continued to argue with me. He began calling me names and saying similar phrases like You are naive, You were spoiled by your dad, "Who